


I'm Holding My Breath For You

by gh0sthunt



Series: BMC x TFB [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Crying, Drama, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Music, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mild Blood, Panic Attacks, Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporarily Unrequited Love, boyf riends - Freeform, it's only one and it's not graphic, kinda?? it's literally like 1/3 of a sentence, light fluff, no beta we die like men, no one actually dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 00:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13224576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0sthunt/pseuds/gh0sthunt
Summary: It started with just petals, but soon his lungs were producing entire flowers. It was as if for every flower he coughed up, two more would sprout in its place.Michael is forced to admit that he's in love with his best friend.





	I'm Holding My Breath For You

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Swimming Pool by The Front Bottoms

The night of Halloween was quite possibly the worst night of Michael's life. Not only had his best friend left him alone to have a panic attack in the bathroom, but then he had begun coughing, and he couldn't stop. They were deep coughs that rattled his chest and made it ache as if his lungs were tearing themselves apart.

He stumbled and knelt over the toilet, gasping for breath. His vision was blurred, glasses long ago discarded and tears refusing to stop.

Finally, something loosened in his chest. He spit up blood and something soft. His throat crackled with each of his labored breaths. Michael stared into the mess of red, trying to regain control over his breathing.

The panic attack seemed to have stopped, leaving numbness in its wake, which he was thankful for, though now he had an entirely new problem that needed to be assessed. He blindly reached for his glasses with one hand while he wiped what he hoped was the last of the tears from his eyes. He slipped them on once he located them, ignoring the salt and smudges clouding the lenses.

With his sight back, he looked down into the toilet bowl again. Were those...flower petals? They were red, practically the same color as his blood. Toward the narrow ends, he could make out bits of unstained white.

As he leaned in closer, hoping to God he was wrong, a loud banging at the door startled him. It was then that he realized there was a panic going on outside. He could make out shrieks of something about a fire. The banging continued, becoming more persistent.

Michael debated staying in the bathroom, and going down with the house. Before he could truly weigh his options, the sound of splintering wood filled the tiny space and the door swung open to hit the wall beside it.

Jake Dillinger stood in the doorway, looking frantic. "C'mon, man, you gotta get the fuck out." He didn't even give Michael a chance to protest as he hauled him up off the floor and shoved him toward the slowly thinning crowd of evacuees.

Michael numbly obeyed, stumbling down the stairs and following closely behind some girl dressed as a tiger. Just as they reached the door, he heard a loud crackling followed by the unmistakable sound of the staircase collapsing.

Everything after that was a blur. He remembered seeing Jake jump out a window, carrying a very burned Rich. Some paramedics checked over him some time after Jake's screams of pain had silenced. He wasn't sure how he got past them so easily since he was clearly dazed, and likely looked like a wreck, but he supposed they had more pressing matters to worry about. He didn't remember how he got home or made it to bed that night.

❀❀❀

As it turned out, Michael was, in fact, coughing up flower petals, and it became a regular occurrence after that night. His chest hurt all the time. A constant rattling resounded from his lungs, especially prominent when he would breathe deeply.

It started with just petals, but soon his lungs were producing entire flowers. It was as if for every flower he coughed up, two more would sprout in its place. The petals were rounded, and the overall color of them was a vibrant red that tapered off into a white ring that surrounded the purple center. After scouring the internet, he discovered that the flowers were called anemones.

He knew what was happening to him, yet that didn't make the revelation any less disturbing. The Hanahaki Disease was something that had baffled the medical community for years. No one knew how unrequited love caused the flowers to sprout, or how a change in heart could get rid of them. Only recently had doctors discovered that surgical removal was an option, but the surgery was incredibly delicate and invasive, not to mention expensive. Only a handful of surgeons across the country specialized in performing the task.

Michael grew up hearing the fatality rates, and that being gay increased his chances of rejection that would ultimately lead to death. It was something that he had never really thought much about, though, because the disease was so rare and hadn't even existed thirty years ago. But now, reality was staring him in the face, and he was oh so afraid.

There was no one he could tell, either. His family couldn't afford the surgery. There wasn't much they could do to help other than that. They couldn't exactly force him to fall out of love. And Jeremy...Jeremy was the cause of it all. Michael had been trying to tell himself for years that he wasn't in love with his best friend, but the proof was as plain as day. He loved Jeremy, and Jeremy obviously didn't love him because he took a stupid supercomputer to be with Christine.

As it turned out, Michael didn't have to tell anyone. Jake returned to school a week after the fire, and confronted Michael at lunch that day.

Michael was sitting alone, listening to his music while he ate when Jake sat down across from him. He gestured for Michael to take his headphones off. With furrowed brows, Michael did so.

"Do you mind if I talk to you outside?" Jake asked.

Michael couldn't help the rise in anxiety at that. The guy had two broken legs, and could still kick his ass. Why he would do that was yet to be decided, but Michael was sure Jake could find a reason if he really wanted to. Still, Michael nodded hesitantly and followed him out into the quiet hallway.

"Are you...okay?" was the first thing that Jake said once they were alone, and he sounded so genuinely concerned that Michael was taken aback.

Michael nervously laughed it off. "Where's this coming from?"

"I saw the flower petals, Michael," Jake cut to the chase. "How long?"

Michael avoided his gaze. He felt as if his throat were closing up, cornered and forced to admit that something was very, very wrong with him. "A-A week," he managed. "The party was the first time."

He heard Jake swear under his breath, could feel the weight of his pitying gaze. "Does Jeremy know? I mean, I know you guys are fighting right now, but you should tell him, if you haven't already."

Michael shook his head slowly. "I haven't even told my parents." His head snapped up suddenly, looking up at Jake with wide eyes. "You haven't told anyone, have you?"

"No, of course not." Jake seemed offended by the insinuation, but Michael couldn't bring himself to care. "Don't you think you should get help, though?"

The shorter boy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just...need time," he mumbled. He needed time that he definitely didn't have.

Jake knew that just as well as him. He looked conflicted for a moment. "I won't tell anyone, but you can't let this kill you, Michael."

Michael offered him a weak smile. "I don't plan to."

While that wasn't exactly a lie, and he did fear dying, he had resigned himself to defeat already. He'd tried to avoid these feelings for years, but now that they had surfaced, there was no way of shoving them back down. He doubted Jeremy would ever feel for him romantically. He wasn't even sure if Jeremy still wanted to be his friend anymore. Still, Michael resented the squip, and was holding out for some hope of eradicating it and getting his best friend back.

Michael's answer seemed to satisfy Jake, and he left him be after offering the empty sentiment of being there for him if he needed anything.

❀❀❀

The school play came and went, and with it, the chaos that the squip brought. His relationship with Jeremy over the following few weeks was rocky, as to be expected. Their group of friends had expanded to more than just the two of them. Jeremy had ended up dating Christine, after all, and he seemed happy with being able to keep some of the popularity that the squip brought him.

On the surface, everything appeared to be returning to normal. However, Michael couldn't ignore the constant worried glances he received from Jake or his poorly disguised efforts to check up on Michael through texts.

Truth be told, the effects of the disease had ebbed, and he had gone nearly a week without any incidents. Michael had almost convinced himself that his feelings for Jeremy were becoming strictly platonic again. But then, it all came crashing down again.

On a Saturday afternoon, he and Jeremy had beat Apocalypse of the Damned once again and the victory theme filled the room. Jeremy turned to Michael with that huge, dorky grin that he had missed so much during the months that Jeremy ignored him. Michael felt his heart flutter in his chest upon seeing it, and couldn't help but match Jeremy's expression.

Only moments later, the ache had set into Michael's chest. It was getting more difficult to breathe. He tried to fight back the cough, clamping a hand over his mouth, but it was soon forcing itself out. Michael sprinted to the bathroom, ignoring Jeremy's confused expression. 

He collapsed as soon as the door slammed shut behind him, his body wracked with coughs and horrible, gasping breaths. Jeremy's knocking and nervous voice were merely background noise to him as he desperately tried to clear his airway. He spluttered, a few blood-stained petals falling past his lips. He tried his best to breathe deeply for the brief moment that his lungs weren't fighting against him.

Then, just as the fit began again, he felt a hand gently touch his back. He glanced to his left to meet worried blue eyes. Michael realized he hadn't locked the door behind him.

"J-Jere-" Michael's attempt to speak was cut off by more violent coughs.

Jeremy quietly shushed him, hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Michael wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, him practically coughing up his lungs and Jeremy simply being there, trying to support him in any way he could. Finally, though, the last of the flowers tumbled out of his mouth, and he could breathe again, albeit still a bit labored.

"I'll be right back," Jeremy said softly. Michael's glance at him must have looked pleading, because he added, "I'm just getting you some water."

Michael nodded slightly, or at least he thought he did, before Jeremy quickly and quietly left. He braced his arm across the toilet seat and rested his sweaty forehead on it. Michael allowed his eyes to fall shut, all the energy drained out of him.

Jeremy soon returned, sitting down next to Michael with a cup in hand. He coaxed his friend to sit back against the wall, and handed over the glass when Michael was settled.

Michael took small sips of the water, trying his best to avoid Jeremy's concerned gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jeremy asked when the silence became unbearable. He feared the answer he would receive. Of course Michael would keep this from him. He was the one who had pushed Michael away.

"Don't..." Michael's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Don't blame yourself." He had been friends with Jeremy for long enough to know when he was doubting himself.

"Did anyone know?"

"Jake," Michael answered, taking another sip, "but not because I told him. He found me in the bathroom during the fire."

Jeremy winced hearing about that night. He'd already apologized to Michael countless times for the things he did because of the squip, especially for his actions that night. Jeremy bit down on his bottom lip, his guilt growing. Michael had forgiven him for everything despite suffering the whole time. Jeremy was horrified by the realization that Michael could have died, and he had no idea what he was going through.

Michael gave him a knowing look out of the corner of his eye, and Jeremy stopped himself before he could apologize once more. 

Michael's feelings weren't Jeremy's fault. It wasn't Jeremy's fault that Michael fell in love with him, or that Jeremy liked girls and Michael's heart didn't want to believe that. Still, Michael couldn't bring himself to vocalize this.

Unsaid words created a tension between them that hadn't been felt in a while, a tension so thick that made it hard for even Jeremy to breathe.

"Who is it?" Jeremy asked softly, thinking out loud.

Michael inhaled sharply. That was when the dam broke and he began to cry, because he couldn't confess to his best friend who was dating a girl that he was absolutely smitten for, and he would die because of it, because he couldn't get rid of these stupid feelings.

Jeremy didn't say anything more. He pulled Michael into his side, and let him bury his face in his shoulder, let his tears soak his t-shirt, because it was the least he could do. Michael had been there for him in the late nights, after his nightmares of the squip, had come over at ungodly hours just to assure him that he hadn't ruined their friendship, had supplied him with enough Mountain Dew Red to drown out the paranoia about the supercomputer coming back.

"It's you," Michael finally croaked out, so quiet that Jeremy almost mistook it for another attempt at clearing his throat.

Jeremy felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. He inhaled sharply, and formulated his next words carefully. "I broke up with Christine earlier."

Michael peered up at him through smudged glasses, teary eyes wide with surprise. "What? Why?" 

Jeremy shrugged with the shoulder that Michael wasn't leaning on and tried to ignore how his heart broke to see Michael in such a state. "We just didn't really work out. She said she doesn't really have romantic feelings for anyone. Something about feeling complete and okay with just friends," he explained.

"And what about you?" Michael asked. He looked down, away from Jeremy's gaze, wiping his tear-streaked cheeks with his sweatshirt sleeve.

"I liked her at first, but I realized that we were better as friends, and most of my feelings for her were just me projecting my feelings for someone else," Jeremy responded. He felt Michael stiffen against him. "I had a minor sexuality crisis, and figured out I'm kinda into boys, too?" he pitched it up like a question, unsure of himself, afraid to overstep boundaries with where this was heading. "O-Or, well, one boy in p-particular." He felt his face turning red. "Y-You. I like you."

Michael looked back up, his dark eyes rimmed in red and scanning Jeremy's expression for any hint that he was lying. The feeling in his chest was enough indication. For a moment, he thought his heart was going to shatter, because he could feel another cough rising up in his throat. He surged forward, toward the toilet, expecting a coughing fit, but it wasn't like all the other times. He didn't feel like he was choking, didn't taste blood or feel fresh petals sticking to his throat. Instead, when he coughed, withered petals fluttered out of his mouth. For the first time in over a month, he felt like he could breathe again.

"Holy fuck," Michael whispered in disbelief. He turned to face Jeremy. "I- They're- H-Holy fuck." He let out a small, breathy laugh, running a hand through his already messy hair.

Jeremy looked over Michael's shoulder to see the dead flower petals. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face when he met Michael's eyes.

Neither of them knew who initiated the hug, but both boys ended up with their arms wrapped tightly around each other. Michael was alive, he was breathing, and this was proof.

When they pulled apart, Michael was the first to speak. "So, does this make us boyfriends?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"I-If that's what you want," Jeremy answered, trying to fight off a blush as his bashfulness took over.

Michael nodded without hesitation. He let out a sigh of relief, the last of the tension leaving his body as he slouched forward, putting his head on Jeremy's shoulder. "I also really want a nap," he mumbled.

"Come on, then." Jeremy stood, tugging Michael up with him. He led Michael by the hand to the bed.

"Sorry about your shirt," Michael said. He removed his glasses. He could hardly see anything through them anymore, but couldn't be bothered to clean them.

"Nothing that won't wash out, don't worry," Jeremy assured him as he grabbed a fresh shirt. He changed and straightened up the bathroom before returning with a damp rag. "Micah," he spoke quietly.

Michael hummed in question and looked up at him, too tired to really register that Jeremy had used his old nickname for him. It was usually only brought out in situations like this, when one, or both of them, was emotionally vulnerable.

Jeremy held Michael's head in place with a gentle hand on his chin while he wiped the traces of tears and blood off of his face. He put the rag away once he was satisfied.

The two settled in bed together, ending up a tangle of limbs as they found comfort in the closeness of each other. Michael was the first to drift off. Jeremy then allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by Michael's even, relaxed breathing.

They had been through a lot together lately, and there were still things that needed to be said, emotional healing that needed to be done, but in that moment, everything felt okay for once.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've got some cool flower knowledge/symbolism. Red anemone symbolizes death or forsaken love. Some sources also say that it means dying hope. Pink anemone supposedly means the same, however, I thought that red was more fitting. In Greek mythology, Adonis was killed by the gods because of their jealousy over his affair with the goddess of love, Aphrodite. Anemones sprang from her tears when she mourned his death. His blood then stained the flowers red.
> 
> I actually haven't read many other fics about the Hanahaki Disease, so I'm not sure if there are any differences between my interpretation and the most common interpretation of the trope. Hopefully I did it justice, because I really love the idea of it. I tried not to overdo it with the melodrama haha.


End file.
